9 comments/ 20975 views/ 1 favorites Twinkle By: Sacred Beauty Can you imagine having sex eight times in a week but not cumming? That torture is my life, and that life pays the bills. Men use me for a surreal experience. They want a dramatic fuck with a dramatic climax. As a professional, I always give them what they ask for including the porn star theatrics. A request went out: client: S T (blonde/blue) wants: leggy chocolate beauty meet: 8pm Hilton bar, corner table dress: appropriate pay: $1000 code: Kundera $1000 to swallow a load of spunk didn’t sound too bad to me. I had done it for more and I had done it for less. Since I fit the general description, I answered the call. Two hours later I walked into the downtown bar with my trusty bag of tricks and took a seat. An old friend approached my table. "Steve?" I was alarmed. It was unnerving seeing someone I knew while out on a call. "How have you been Marla?" "Fine, and you?" "I’m fine too." He sat across from me. I looked around the bar hoping that the man I was meeting wouldn’t see me with him. "Good… good…" My voice trailed off. Steve waived the waitress away even though I could have used a drink. "How long have we known each other?" "Years." Five years to be exact. "That’s right," He nodded, "and I have been thinking about that a lot lately." "Really?" I crossed my legs under the table then quickly uncrossed them when I remembered I wasn’t wearing any panties. "I have done everything short of kidnapping to get you to go out with me. Hinting around didn’t work and neither did the direct approach." "I’m sorry Steve but this is a bad time. This is a serious conversation that deserves not to be rushed." I glanced at my watch. 7:58pm. "Can I call you tomorrow? You can come over for lunch." "You can relax Marla, you are meeting me here tonight." He pulled a book from the underneath the table. The fact that it was by Milan Kundera couldn’t have been a coincidence. I sat silently, contemplating the fact that my friend was buying me. The words came slowly, "Well you have two hours. Do you want to make the best of your time?" "I’ve rented a room if that’s what you’re asking." Steve pulled his checkbook out of his back pocket. "A thousand right?" I nodded, "I don’t take checks." It may have sounded cold, but this was business. "I brought cash just in case." "Don’t take it out down here." I stood up and headed for the elevators in the lobby. ***** Once in the room, we discussed the business at hand more freely. I looked him over trying to decide if he was serious or not. My first question was straight to the point, "How do you want it?" "Can you speak like a human being and not gutter slum?" He sat his book on the nightstand then turned to face me. That hurt. "$25 in the back of a car is gutter slum. Don’t insult me." His voice was full of sarcasm. "Sorry Twilight." "It’s Twinkle." I snapped. He laughed out loud, "If I have to call you by your nickname then you can call me something equally ridiculous. Call me your ‘bad boy’." "Do you want me to be a bad girl?" "No." he answered plainly. "Actually, I just want you to be Marla…and let me be Steve." "Do you know why the girls call me Twinkle?" When he didn’t respond, I continued, "Its because men tip big if they think they’re the best screw you’ve ever had." "And?" "And, I can open the flood gates on queue just like an actress. If they think they can fuck me so good that I cry when I cum then that means extra money." I admitted. He listened carefully as I detailed the hidden part of my life over several minutes. "I don’t like who you’ve become." His face was full of disgust. "Why not? You’re a businessman and I’m a businesswoman." Steve let out a long sigh, "Am I your only date tonight?" "This isn’t a date its an appointment." "When was the last time you were with someone you truly cared about?" He asked. "Sex is a tool." Did he think he was my therapist? This was awkward not because I was having trouble recalling but because I was sure that I hadn’t ever been with someone I loved. I needed to take control of the situation and knew that I could do so with my body. He watched as I peeled the spaghetti straps of my little green dress over my shoulders then stepped out of it. Now I was naked before him rendering him speechless. Ha! "You are more beautiful then I imagined." His eyes followed the curves of my body. I turned around and struck a pose knowing that my backside was equally impressive. After a moment or two I faced him again. "I could look at you all night." Steve took baby steps towards me and as he did so, I eased back, luring him to the bed. There we were face to face as I was undressing him. I don’t know if he was nervous, shy or inexperienced, but when he touched me it seemed non-sexual. His hands glided over my skin, stroking my shoulders and arms, my tummy and waist. Everywhere but the traditional erogenous zones. The funny thing is that as he stood there drinking in the sight of me, I became aroused. I closed my eyes and allowed him to touch me everywhere. They only opened when his lips touched mine. I turned my face away, "I don’t kiss." Under normal circumstances I could have kissed him. In fact I had many times in the past…those innocent pecks on the cheek or a quick kiss goodbye. Steve simply accepted my statement and didn’t argue the fact. "Since they don’t rent rooms by the hour, we don’t have to leave until morning." "Good because I have a tasty treat for you." Steve’s eyes gravitated down to my trimmed pussy but I wasn’t talking about oral sex just yet. I pulled the jar and paint brush out of my bag of tricks and threw them on the bed. He searched my eyes as I continued to undress him. "What’s all of tthis?" "Its an edible tattoo set. Its just liquid chocolate that dries in a few seconds like when they dip your cone at the ice cream shop. The escort request you sent out asked for a ‘chocolate beauty’. I thought that maybe it was a hint of your fantasy." "Fantasy?" He was intrigued, but repeated the word like he didn’t understand it’s meaning. "How does it work?" "I brush the body frosting over the stencils or draw whatever I like on you." I twisted he top off of the chocolate and dipped my finger in for a taste. Instead of bringing it to my mouth I brought it to his. Steve’s moan was the first sign that he was a sexual being and not some paranoid virgin. "So delicious Marla…" "I know." I gave him another taste. "Mmmm…" I moaned seductively along with him, "Mmmm…its yummy isn’t it? Tell me your fantasies?" "Feeding someone while we are doing it. Food and making love." Last night I had to strap on a dildo and fuck some big guy in the ass. Steve’s simple request would be easy. "Maybe we can try that together." I urged, moving the jar on the nightstand. Steve appeared scared when I pushed him on the bed and rolled on top of him. I teased his neck and chest then pressed my tits to him as I ground my pussy against his thigh. When all of this failed to produce a solid hard on, I dipped the brush in the jar. "Chocolate is an aphrodisiac," his voice calmed, "that's why I asked for someone with chocolate skin. You have chocolate skin so I knew that they would send you." He licked his lips as his eyed devoured me, "it is sooooo tantalizing." I drew abstract swirls on his chest and stomach then blew on the gooey chocolate until it dried. He watched as I nibbled it off, leaving sticky brown smears all over his fair skin. I repeated, working my way down his front side until I got to his dick. Once there, I painted his erection until it was the color of my skin then sucked it off. I know for a fact that he loved that. He wouldn’t admit it out loud, but his body told me so. After a while I handed him the brush and the jar of chocolate but he didn’t want to paint me. Oh well…the customer is always right. Shit. I had imagined him doing some beautiful design on me since he is an artist but he didn’t seem interested. Maybe he was ready to fuck. "Condom?" He seemed offended, "You know me…" This was business. "…and you know me." I would have fucked him bareback, but only for extra money. It was best not to tell him so because I didn’t want to offend him even more. "I didn’t bring anything. I thought that since…" "Its ok. I carry them." Thinking he was ready, I became more aggressive and that’s when he began to pull away. "I don’t like this Marla. Its so forced. I can’t do it like this its just too much pressure. You’re intimidating…" "Me?" Little old me? I was flattered. "You always say things like ‘riding dick is an art form’ or ‘I’ve never met a dick that I didn’t like’. How am I supposed to compete with that? I wanted this to happen naturally. I wanted to make love to you on my terms." He wanted so much. That confirmed it. Obviously we weren’t fucking tonight. My whole attitude towards him changed. "Lets just forget this whole night happened and get some rest." I pulled the covers back and slipped between the chilly sheets. After a moment of standing there looking stupid, he did the same. Steve folded his pillow and stuffed it behind his neck then picked up Laughter and Forgetting. I laid next to him as he read selected passages aloud. They were beautiful passages that completely changed the mood. Suddenly we were just Steve and Marla and I was happy again. I waited patiently as he thumbed through the book again. After finding the right section he looked down and tenderly kissed my nose. I fell asleep in his arms listening to his voice. It was the realest moment I had shared with a man in years. ***** He inched towards me to spoon as the sun came up. I loved the feeling of warmth that came with his embrace. I also loved the feeling of his hard dick pressed against my ass. Part of the enjoyment was that he wasn’t a stranger. In that moment I realized what I had been missing all of these years. Not necessarily love…but a connection. I had a connection with Steve that was undeniable. I pondered that as he buried his face in my hair and spoke. "We’ve talked about your job before. I know how you let men tie you up and do things to you…rough things. Don’t you see that it can be different? It can be like this all of the time." I got defensive, "If you can’t handle my truth then maybe we aren’t suited to be friends." Steve took his time with me, which was very different in my line of work. "I don’t want to be your friend." He began to move around back there letting his erection come to rest between my legs. His dick’s position was the exclamation point of his statement. He definitely knew his way around a woman’s body. I was ready, willing…but still waiting. Suddenly my body had a mind of its own. I was softly undulating against him. "Put it in." "Not yet." His warm breath caressed my ear. "Please." I wanted it so bad. I was desperate as we moved with each other. When I looked over my shoulder at him, he surprised me with a kiss. I can’t remember the last time a man kissed me on the lips. It had to be sometime last year. Steve was passionately kissing me, knowing that the act was forbidden in my world. His touch was so intoxicating that I found myself kissing him back. Soon we were fully involved and his hands wandered down between my legs. I quickly spread them to give better access and his fingers took full advantage. Gentle circles followed as his mouth left mine and moved down my neck. His fingers continued to move between my lower lips going back and forth from my insides to my clit. By now I was soaking wet and desperate for his dick to slip inside. Instead, the fingers squishing around in my wetness penetrated me until I was squirming. Steve began to whisper beautiful sentiments. His dick was still sliding between my legs but he wouldn’t enter me. He played in my pussy bringing me to climax for the first time. As my body quivered against his, he methodically massaged my sensitive clit. I had to bite my lip to keep from cursing him. That’s when I felt the wetness on my pillow. Tears. Steve’s love had brought me to tears. Not the fake kind I shed for clients, but genuine. What the fuck? "Marla, I want so much to make love to you. Will you let me?" I nodded frantically. I was a mess. Damn. Steve finally slid inside of me from behind for what I thought would be an average fuck but it was amazing. He pushed himself about an inch in, then began moving but accidentally slipped free. I was patient, knowing that fucking like this can be tricky because of the angle. "Come on baby…" I wet my lips one at a time, "…don’t stop." The tables were turned. In my line of work, usually it is the clients that do the begging. A long moan escaped as he eased the rest of the way in pulled back then thrusted forward. Sigh. We were still once again. "Do you know how long I have waited to be inside of you? How long I have wanted to be with you like this?" "Fuck me…fuck me Steve. Please don’t stop." I pushed my ass back to encourage him. "Just fuck me…" "Don’t say it like that. Don’t belittle the act." I rephrased to appease him, "Make love to me." There were more silky touches and kisses all over my neck and shoulders, wet and wonderful. His probing fingers left my pussy and made a damp trail up to my tits where he kneaded me like dough. Each time he entered me it was like oxygen. He was reviving me. Bringing that lost person back to life. I was being born. I arched my back and tilted my hips so he could dig deeper. Slow and easy. We fucked like that until I melted into the sheets. I wished I could have lived that moment forever. Him behind me with that steady rhythm, massaging my tits and whispering the sweetest things. Fucking me so fucking good. Lord have mercy, just achingly slow and good. My moans serenaded us as we picked up speed. Steve pulled out as I came which is a no no. A straight rookie move. Everyone knows that you keep moving through your orgasm until you can’t take anymore. I love being fucked when I am overly sensitive until the pleasure becomes painful. This time it was me who initiated the kissing. It seemed inadequate, but it was the only way I could think of to thank him. After the encounter, we fell asleep, legs entangled and spooning. It was the same position he woke me up and fucked me in. My ass pressed to him…his hands on my tits. Delicious comfort. Later that morning I woke up alone but blissfully happy. Until… …I looked at the nightstand and realized that he didn’t pay me. That motherfucker. Twinkle, Twinkle My Wishing Star A woman looking for fame and fortune, gets green acres and farm life instead. * Once her favorite holiday, Audrey now dreaded Valentine's Day. Normally an early shopper, with Valentine's Day looming closer, in the way of a painful toothache, she hadn't even yet bought her husband a Valentine's Day card. Every time she was in the mood to look at Valentine's Day cards, once she started reading the sentiments, wishing her life was different, uncomplicated and unencumbered. She wished she was single again. Dreading returning home, she fell out of the mood to look at meaningless Valentine's Day cards and walked out the store feeling sad, frustrated, angry, unappreciated, and restlessly lonely. Just as she had grown to finally fall out of love with her husband, it was obvious that he didn't love her. Truth be told, the sad reality about their strained relationship was that he never loved her. More concerned about his farm animals than about her, if anything, wanting a farmhand with benefits, using her for sex, as if she was just another one of his farm animals that he needed to run his farm, he lusted over her but he didn't love her. "Twinkle, twinkle little star," she said making her secret wishes on a star she picked out and that magically appeared each night in the same place in the sky, through the barn's tattered roof, whenever she was out in the barn. "I wish upon a star tonight, grant me my wish to improve my plight." Only, her wishes for fame and fortune never came true. Definitely, without a doubt, this was God's country, but God was busy doing other things than to help her get her start with a singing, dancing, and acting career. Totally pitch black at night, unless the carnival, the farm show, or the circus came to town to light up the night's sky with an aurora borealis of wonderment and awaken the night with music, there were no Broadway lights and no music out here, just chores. * * * * * If given the chance, Audrey would have stayed in the big city. With stars in her eyes and fame and fortune on her mind, if given the opportunity, she wanted to be a singer and have a career as an entertainer. She loved the wild nightlife of the big city. Hopping from club to club to listen and to dance to the new sounds of music from live bands in the city, if the country had sidewalks, they'd roll them up at suppertime. If given the choice, she'd never leave the city nightlife for the real wildlife of a small country, rural town. Only, she wasn't given much of a chance, opportunity, or choice, when she had to pack up her things and move from the city to the country. "So, this is it, small town USA? This is the whole town, a gas station, a country store, a church, an old cinema, a bowling alley, and a diner? It's so quaintly charming but, just like the small cemetery behind the church, so peacefully dead," she said after having pulled into town and parking her car behind the bank, where she'd be working. "Where are all the people? I can only wonder what they do or don't do on a Saturday night. I wonder if they have cable? I hope to God they have the Internet." Audrey was transferred from her corporate bank in the city to this small branch office in this small town way out in the western part of the state, after she filed a sexual harassment lawsuit against her boss, the senior vice president at the bank, and her employer, Multinational Bank. Even though it's been more than a year since the attack, the memory of the sexual assault, along with the effects of her lawsuit, with her being transferred here, as if being punished, are still fresh in her mind and sometimes plays in the way of an endlessly horrific video. It all started, when Mr. Wilson called her up to his office. Nothing unusual about that, typically they met weekly behind closed doors to discuss banking business, something he preferred doing with her, rather than with her immediate superior, Mr. Wilson's Bank Manager, George Reynolds, who was a man his age. "Mr. Wilson wants to see you, Audrey," said Mr. Reynolds. "He does? Why? Have I done something wrong?" "No, not at all, he wants to discuss the bank's business with you. Matter of fact, he wants to see you weekly to discuss banking business," he said with a sigh and a defeated look, while slowly shaking his head. "I don't understand, George. You're the Branch Manager and I'm only your assistant. Besides, he has weekly meeting with all of his bank managers. Why does he need another private meeting with me? Why does he want to discuss banking business with me, instead of with you? You have more banking experience and financial education that I do." "Because," said George with a sad face and a roll of his eyes, while looking at Audrey with a fatherly smile, "suffice to say that you have better legs than I do. Just humor him and maybe he'll leave you alone," he said with a thoughtful pause, "or give you a raise and a promotion in the way that he gave Brenda," he said with a little laugh, as if enjoying a private joke. "Oh," said Audrey immediately understanding that the bank's business as usual sexual harassment laws didn't apply to those top echelon executives. Even though this is the 21st century with established sexual harassment laws firmly set in place, and not the 20th century with secretaries being groped and coerced to have sex with executives, in exchange for raises, preferential treatment, and promotions, nothing has changed at this bank managed by mostly middle-age Caucasian men, in fifty years. When she entered his office, with his back to her, Mr. Wilson was sitting in his big, red, tufted leather, high back chair with it turned outward to the panoramic view that he had from his expanse of penthouse office windows. Rude of him to be sitting like that with his back to her, she thought, when he had asked to see her, especially knowing she'd be right up and that she was now there in his office, she silently stewed by the ill-mannered slight and his lack of professional courtesy. Content to sit and wait for him to finish, whatever he was doing, usually on the phone texting someone, she took the empty chair in front of his desk, while staring at the back of his bald head. As if she was auditioning for a Hollywood producer, always positioned in the same exact spot, she always thought it odd that the chair in front of his desk was always so neatly arranged. Pushed far enough back from his desk to give him a view up her short skirt, if she was careless and didn't sit like a lady, she wondered if that was his intent. She imagined slutty Brenda sitting in this same chair, while giving him an up skirt view of her panty. Maybe that's why George was laughing. Maybe that's how ditsy Brenda got her big raise and promotion. Finished playing with his phone, discovering later that it wasn't his phone that he was playing with but his cock, with a wave of his hand and a quick turn of his chair, making it appear accidental with his elbow and arm, he knocked a pile of papers and folders from his desk. All of it planned, in hindsight, she now knows that clearing his desktop to the floor wasn't accidental. Everything went flying everywhere. Suddenly feeling like the subservient woman, instead of his junior executive, the Assistant Branch Manager, immediately Audrey stood and squatted down to pick up the mess. Not paying any mind to her comportment, with her short skirt raised just a few inches from her crotch, no doubt, exposing her panties to him, should he be looking and he was, her knees were mindlessly parted wide enough to give him an accidental show of her panty. With the top of her loosely fitting blouse falling opened, too, now rewarded with an up skirt and a down blouse, he squatted down with her, too, on the pretense of helping her pick up his papers. Only, he wasn't picking up papers, he was looking up her crotch high skirt and down her loosely hanging blouse, while pretending he was picking up the purposely dropped paperwork. When she caught him looking, staring, and leering, actually, her face flushed to match her pink panties and she stood and pulled down her skirt. "Does the sexual harassment ever end?" She wondered to herself. "When will she ever be thought of and treated as a professional and an equal, instead of as a sex object?" Now knowing why he wanted to see her, not to hear her professional opinions, but just to have a peek up her short skirt and down her low cut blouse. Tired of being so mistreated and disrespected, she pondered the answers to her unanswered question in silence. "Asshole," she thought, while hoping he didn't see all that she imagined he saw. Then, when he stood, she couldn't believe her eyes. His cock was out of his unzipped trousers and he had an erection. What the fuck? Are you kidding me? Being that he was the Senior Vice President of the bank, giving him the benefit of her doubt, much in the way of his dropped paperwork, at first she figured his sudden exposure was accidental. Not a prude and hardly a virgin, still the unexpected sight of his engorged prick startled her and, having never seen an uncircumcised cock before, she involuntarily looked down and stared at his exposed prick. Perhaps, she thought, this outrageously lascivious behavior worked on others, but not on her. Maybe on her knees and sucking his cock, instead of sitting in a chair and exposing her panties, was how busty Brenda from the secretarial pool got her big raise and promotion. He was the senior Vice President, after all. Not realizing she was staring, shocked, embarrassed, and nervous, her reaction to stare, no doubt, encouraged more of his outrageous behavior. He walked to her, took her in his arms, and tried to kiss her, while feeling her where no Senior Vice President of the bank should ever touch his Assistant Branch Manager or any employee. "Mr. Wilson. Stop! Let go of me," she said pushing against him, but he was too big and too strong for her to move him. "I know you want it, Audrey. Touch it. Go ahead. Feel my cock. I made it nice and hard for you, before you came in my office," he said with a bit of a deranged tone to his voice. "Oh, my God! How dare you?" She said, when he took her wrist and put her hand on his cock and held it there. "Get away from me!" Trying to pull away from his grasp, she couldn't. "Don't you want to stroke it, Audrey?" He moved the palm of her hand up and down the length of his cock. "If you play ball with me, I'll make sure you go right to the top in your banking career. If you don't, you won't," he said wrapping her splayed fingers around his cock and forcing her to stroke him, while holding his hand over her hand and moving her hand back and forth. "Oh, yeah, that feels good. Faster. I need to cum," he said kissing her and forcing his tongue in her mouth, while reaching around to feel her round, firm ass through her navy blue skirt. She turned her head away and, still holding her around the waist, he let go of her hand to grab hold and turn her chin to kiss her again and again, while feeling her ample breast and fingering and teasing her nipple with his experienced fingertips through her bra. "Mr. Wilson. No! Don't! Stop!" "Who are you kidding, Audrey? You're such a cock tease. I know you want this as much as I do," he said reaching down and, in one quick, forceful, and fluid pull, he lifted her short skirt up past her hips and nearly to her waist. "Tsk, tsk, tsk, you naughty girl. You're so wicked. You're not even wearing a slip and I can see your panties," he said leaning down to get a better look of her panties. "If you don't let me go, right this instant, I'll tell your wife," she said trying to wiggle from his grasp, while trying to think of what else to say to stop him. "Stop! No! Let go of me! I'll tell the President of the bank." "Go ahead and tell Hal," he said with a laugh. "The president of the bank is my golfing buddy and my best friend. We frequent the same country club, attend community functions, and hold political fund raisers. With me doing all the work and him getting all the credit, he not only has more of a sexual appetite that I do but also has the free time to chase his secretaries around his office. Besides, there's no one here but you and me. It's my word against your word, Audrey," he said kissing her again. "Let me go! Let me go now." "Look at you," he said looking down at her to feel her full breast again through her blouse and bra. "What's wrong with me?" Hoping to distract him for a moment to make good her escape, she looked down where he stared at her breasts. Only, no doubt, encouraged by her acting as a willing participant in his game, he became even more inappropriately aggressive. He stuck a finger in between her buttonholes to trace and finger fuck the length of her deep, long line of cleavage, before unbuttoning a couple of the buttons of her pale blue blouse to expose her pink, lacy bra. "You dress so provocatively," he said giving her a hug and a squeeze, as if he was her father chastising her for not dressing appropriately for school. "Don't you know we have a dress code? In the sexy way that you dress, you're just asking for trouble," he said with a dirty laugh, while sarcastically whispering his words. "Please don't do this," she said struggling to pull away from his grasp, but he held her by both of her wrists in one of his big hands. "I dare say that your outfit is inappropriate bank attire. Actually, Audrey, forgive me for saying this, but you dress like a slut," he said leaning forward to whisper his words in her ear, before inserting his tongue in her ear and slowly twirling it around, as if he were licking her pussy. "Let go of me this instant or I'll file a report with Human Resources," she said recoiling and leaning back away from his tongue, while trying to knee him in the groin. "No one is going to believe you over me, Audrey, especially when I make the bank so much money," he said reaching down between her legs to grab a handful of her panty clad pussy. He traced her vaginal slit with his finger, before moving her panty elastic aside with his fingernail. Then, with him still holding her and trying to kiss her, he made slow circles with his fingertip in her trimmed, blonde pubic hair. "Please don't do this. I beg you to let me go. I won't say anything to anyone. I promise," she said with a smile. "We can pretend this never happened. Okay?" "No, sorry, that's not okay. I'm a realist. Just as I never forget and forgive a loan, I can't pretend this never happened because it did," he said with arrogance. "If you don't let go of me now, I'll report you to the police and they'll charge with sexual assault. You'll be arrested and the bank will fire you. Your name and face will appear on the sex registry list for the rest of your life. You'll not only lose your job but also your position in the community. Your wife will divorce you. Your children will disown you. You'll be disgraced." "Nonsense," he loudly laughed. "Just as I can always hire another Assistant Bank Manager, the bank can't easily find another financial genius. Sorry, but you're expendable and I'm not," he said with pride. "I win and you lose." She squirmed away, when he tried penetrating her with his finger, but not enough to get away. Not bad enough that he sexually assaulted her, not bad enough that he called her a slut but, after working so hard trying to make her career in the banking industry, it really hurt her, when he said she was expendable. Feeling useless and so controlled, suddenly feeling so used and abused, she felt like such a worthless woman trying to make it and failing in man's world. She felt like such a dope. Too angry to cry, she pulled away from his grasp, finally. She slapped him, she punched him, and she kicked him, but he overpowered her. With a hard downward push on her shoulder, feeling as if he'd break her collar bone, if she resisted, he forced her to her knees. Then, with a fast hand and a quicker finger, he reached down to grab her nipple through her blouse and bra and squeezed and pulled hard. When she opened her mouth to scream in pain, he filled her mouth with his cock. "No!" She screamed momentarily spitting him out of her mouth, before he shut her up with his cock again. As if a cowboy wrapping rope around his hand to ride a bucking bronco, wrapping her long, blonde, straight hair around his hand, before putting a hand to the back of her pretty head, he pushed his full body weight hard against her. With his big hand holding her head in place, he humped her mouth and fucked her face, in the way that he fucks the air with his hips, when alone and in the privacy of his office, after successfully wooing a big bank depositor away from another bank to invest with his bank. He was forcing her to suck his cock now. Humping her mouth harder, she was really sucking him. Having no other alternative, with him already so sexually excited and becoming even more excited with his cock buried in and humping her mouth, not wanting him to cum in her mouth, when she couldn't eject him from her mouth with her tongue and free her hold of her head with his hair wrapped hand by pushing back against his knees, she bit down hard, but too late. When he pulled himself from her toothy grasp, what cum he hadn't already ejaculated in her mouth and down her throat, he exploded across her face, her hair, and her blouse. Giving her a real cum bath, she had more cum on her face, then when she gives herself a moisturizing facial. Figuring he must have saved his sperm up for a month, never has she seen a man explode so much cum before. "You bastard. You filthy bastard," she said wiping cum from her nose and eyes. "You dirty pig," she said spitting what cum she had left in her mouth that she hadn't swallowed onto the carpet. "You little bitch," he said backhanding her across the face and knocking her to the floor, while rubbing and checking his cock. Free now, she tried making a run for his closed office door but, by the time she gathered her wits about her and stood, before she could take more than a step or two, he grabbed her from behind, spun her around, and ripped open her blouse. With one fast finger, he lifted her bra to expose her big tits. With his hand all over her bare breasts and his mouth all over her now erect nipples, as if seeking his painful revenge for her biting his cock, he fingered, pulled, twisted, and bit her nipples. "Ow! God damn it. That fucking hurts," said Audrey recoiling, while trying to save her bitten nipple from him, before he bit it off. "I bet my biting your nipple doesn't nearly hurt as much as you biting my cock," he said with an insane look on his face. "Look," he said holding up his prick. "You left your teeth marks. Don't you like me? Actually, I prefer a woman with some fight in her. After I pass you off to Hal, you're going to go far in this bank," he said with a laugh of lunacy. "Fuck you!" "Fuck me? You want to fuck me? Thank you. I'm flattered. Yes, of course, I can accommodate your desire to fuck me," he said with a laugh. Then, lifting up her skirt again that had fallen down, when she tried to make a run for it, he tucked a fat thumb under her bikini panty. In one quick tug, he pulled pull down her panty, reached a hand between her legs, and squeezed a handful of her cunt, as hard as he could. "Ow! God damn you. That fucking hurts." "Don't worry, I'll take the sting off your cunt by what I'm about to do with your ass." A man not to be denied, not one to take no for answer, he reached down and tried sticking his hairy, stiff finger in her dry hole. When she resisted, when she tried squirming away, he bent her forward and held her in place with a heavy hand to her back. He took his index finger and swirled it around in his mouth, before jamming it up her rectum. Ready to satisfy himself now, prepared to fuck her up the ass, he tried inserting his still stiff prick inside of her. Twinkle, Twinkle My Wishing Star She screamed as loud as she could. With her skirt bunched up around her waist, her panties pulled down to her ankles, her trimmed blonde pussy exposed, her blouse torn open, and her bra pushed up to her shoulders, had his secretary not walked in on them and had this not already happened to her, too, without a witness, she wouldn't have had a sexual harassment case. Only, this time, unlike his secretary, who didn't bite down on his cock and who was forced to swallow all of his cum, Audrey had his DNA evidence all over her stained and ruined silk blouse, in the way that Monica Lewinski had Bill Clinton's DNA all over her famed, blue dress. With the other sexually harassed women, five in total, joining in the civil lawsuit to sue Multinational Bank and their Senior Vice-President, settling out of court, each of the plaintiffs won an undisclosed settlement from the bank and, personally, from Mr. Wilson. Because of his money and influence, his importance with the bank, and his team of defense attorney's at his disposal, a rape charge against him was dropped, when the sex was oxymoronically judged inappropriately sexually harassing, but somehow consensual. Accepting the out of court settlement he and the bank paid her enough money for her to buy a new car, pay off her debts, and start a new life elsewhere. Unable to fire her, after her sexual harassment lawsuit and with the bank admitting no guilt or wrongdoing, but for her to keep her job, as the bank's payback, they transferred her from the corporate home office in the city to a small branch office in farm country. After mildly disciplining their moneymaking Vice President, by having him take a sexual harassment course, the bank blamed her for embarrassing them. * * * * * With a reason for everything and with none of us knowing why, Audrey and Paul met more by chance than by circumstance, when he walked in her small bank, one day. A man beholding and indebted to no one, but willing to give a helping hand and a handout to a stranger in need, he had come to her small branch bank to finance a loan on a parcel of land he wanted to buy, after the farmer next to him was ready to retire and sell. Being that she worked at the bank, as the assistant bank manager, she helped him navigate through the myriad of paperwork. Normally, personally and practically knowing every resident in the county, the branch manager would have helped him with the loan, but he was on vacation. When his loan was approved the next week, she was rewarded with a dozen long, stemmed roses, the first and last time he ever bought her flowers. Having never met anyone like him, kindly sincere, and uniquely different from the rudely impatient and needy men she dated in the city, she thought he was her sweet, strong, dream man, until discovering that he was just a hick farmer. The flowers led to drinks and dinner and then an invitation to see his farm the next day. It was when she drove through the scenic countryside, especially after learning her bank was having financial difficulties and needed to lay off several dozen employees, possibly even having to close her small branch office and replace it with an ATM station, for customer convenience, of course, that she wondered what it would be like to give up working at the bank to work on Paul's farm. After he gave her a tour of his main house, his land, and the farm, he showed her the barn. Once she hit the barn, she never left. "Well, here it is. This is it. This is the barn," he said pushing back his John Deere baseball cap, rolling up his sleeves, and putting a hand to his hip, as if getting ready to wrestle a hog or plow a field. Then, discarding a strand of hay that he had been mindlessly chewing, he gave her an amorous look that made her wonder if she should stay or flee. She recognized that look, the look that all men have, when seeing her in the light of day for the first time. Strikingly so blonde and stunningly so beautiful, as if seeing a field of fragrant heather for the first time, a born and bred city girl, she looked like no farm girl ever looked. With the long lustful look that he gave her, she could tell that he was smitten with her. He had that look, the look of sexual desire that men have, when being away at sea too long or after just having come home from war. Staring at her with sexual interest, he had the look that a man has before making his intentions clear and his feelings for her known. Just as several men have done to her, when living in the big city, after she had a little too much to drink at a club, when out with her girlfriends, they touched and felt her everywhere, while trying to kiss her and convince her to go home with them. She resisted them then, as she figured she'd resist Paul now. Just as she tried to fight off her boss, when he groped her and practically stripped her naked, while forcing her down to her knees to suck him, before trying to fuck her up the ass, she didn't need for another man to have his wicked way with her. A bit leery of his intentions, if it came to that, she'd fight this farmer off, too. Yet, tired of fighting arrogant and ill mannered city men, eager to embrace her new life with a real man, a country boy, suddenly and inexplicably with him, she was ready for love. "I've never been inside a barn before," she said looking around, while noticing the growing bulge he had in his overalls, before looking up at him with flirty eyes and giving him her best innuendo. "It's so big, even bigger than it appears from the outside." With her head up and her eyes cast to the rafters, as if looking up at a ceiling in a cathedral, when she turned to focus her look on him, he put an arm around her waist, pulled her to him, and kissed her. As if testing her, the kiss was a not much more than a peck. Different from the time when Mr. Wilson grabbed her about the waist and kissed her, somehow she felt safe with Paul. Not expecting to be kissed by him, especially now and especially in a barn, of all places, shocked by his forwardness, after he had been so politely shy and so well mannered during their business dealings at the bank, when she pulled away and their eyes connected and locked, her heart fluttered. As if her look was his go ahead invitation, he took a step forward and kissed her again, this time longer. With a hand around her waist and another around her back, he slipped her his tongue this time, but she delayed the return of his passion. A bit gun shy, after having been sexually assaulted by Mr. Wilson, resisting his advances at first, she raised her hands and pressed them against his strong shoulders. Unsure if she should push him away or pull him forward, torn if she should stay or flee, already knowing where his actions would surely go, she wondered where else this would lead. Then, once she wrapped her arms around his strong neck and surrendered him her tongue, her decision was already made up in her mind to stay. As if checking a heifer, before buying her at auction, he touched and felt her everywhere through her clothes, while kissing her and, excited by his touch, she let him. A man who knew what he wanted, not one to be denied, she liked the feel of his strong hands, as well as his confidence. Obviously, he thought that he could seduce someone like her, as if he already knew that he could. With one kiss leading to another and another, still emotionally hurting from having been raped, she surprised even herself, when she allowed him to strip off her clothes. Always a bit adventurous, having had sex in a car before with her college date, on a beach at sunrise with a surfer, in the water with her scuba diving instructor, even having sex in an open field with a naturalist, a first time for everything, she never had sex in a barn with a farmer before. While still kissing her, he pushed her up against the horse stall and slowly unbuttoned her blouse. With each unbuttoned button, she looked down with him to see what he could see of her. Never had she felt such excitement from being only partially exposed. Suddenly wanting him, as much as he wanted her, after trying to act like a man in making her way in a man's world with the bank, never has she felt like such a woman. With him having already worked half the day, before she met him at his farm, smelling differently than any white collared man she ever dated, smelling of dried sweat, he smelled the way that a man should smell. Preferring this new smell over one masked by overpowering cologne, she liked the musky, manly aroma of him. Like rough rawhide and worn leather, reminding her of her worn, rough textured scrubbing loofah, before tossing it out, after buying a new one, his calloused hands felt good against her soft skin. Her excitement grew, when he flayed open her blouse and touched, cupped, and fondled her breast, while gently fingering and pulling out her nipples through her bra. It excited her for him to not only see her body but also to touch and feel her body. Then, when he reached down and unbuttoned and unzipped her jeans, struggling to pull them down with one hand, while still kissing her, she stopped him, not to deny him his pleasure with her but, in an anticipated act of mutual delight, to help him. "Let me," she said excitedly in the way she feels, when just about to take a rollercoaster ride. "No," he said kissing her, before falling to his knees and looking up at her with soulful eyes. "I want to do this. I need to do this. After my wife died, it's been a long time, since I've been with a woman," he said looking up at her. Slowly with great delicacy and respect, he pulled down her jeans to exposed her pink belly, her pink, bikini panty clad pussy, and her long, shapely legs. Supporting her with one hand, with a gentle hand to her panty clad buttocks, allowing her to lean on his strong back, he removed her jeans with his other hand. Still on his knees and inhaling, as if checking the freshness of a stack of hay, he placed two hands to her buttocks and pulled her to him. With his face buried in her panty clad pussy, she gasped, as he licked her through the thin material of her panties, before he slowly removed them. Now, lapping up her sweet, warm wetness with his tongue, he probed and explored the depth of her with his long, strong fingers. Dressed in only her unbuttoned blouse and bra, he licked and fingered her, while she stood over him and watched. When the intensity of his tongue became too much, she supported herself with her hands to his broad shoulders, before putting a hand to the back of his head and pulling his face closer towards her, while closing her eyes. Slowly, gently, and rhythmically humping his mouth with her hips, she toyed with his chestnut brown hair with her fingers, in the way that he toyed with her clit with his fingers and tongue. Having only just met the man twice, something she ordinarily would never do, until after several dates, she couldn't believe she allowed him to strip her nearly naked and go down on her. "Don't stop. Please, don't stop, Paul," she said with panicked desperation, as if he wouldn't complete the act, before finishing. Only, whether baling hay, plowing fields in readiness for planting, and stringing new wire on fence posts that ran for a mile, farmer Paul always finished everything that he started out to do. "You have a beautiful pussy, Audrey," he said fingering her faster and deeper, while licking her longer. "I love the taste of you," he said stopping only long enough to speak. "Oh, my God. I'm going to cum, Paul. You're going to make me have an orgasm. Oh, my God. I'm going to cum. I'm going cum. Don't stop. Please, don't stop licking me and fingering me. Just don't stop." Teasing her with subtle flicks and hard licks, the intensity of his tongue increased with the depth and speed of his finger. Finger fucking her, while licking her clit, she was on the verge of cumming in his mouth and when she did, she screamed her excitement loud enough to disturb her audience of farm animals. With the cows mooing, the mule braying, and the horses whinnying, never having had such a draining orgasm as that, she crumpled in his arms. As if picking up a new born calf or colt to hose down, he carried her to lay her upon a fresh stack of fragrant hay, before removing his overalls and underwear. With his cock sticking straight out and at the ready, giving his banker more than a friendly customer handshake, this country farmer was ready to seal the deal with a good long, hard fucking. She reached out, took him in her hand, and stroked him, while he looked down at her to watch. Looking up at him with her big, blue eyes, wanting to give him the pleasure that he just gave her, she leaned forward to take him in her mouth. Stroking him, while sucking him, making him harder with her lips, tongue, and mouth, while stroking him faster and sucking him deeper, wanting him to cum in her mouth, when she cupped his balls, he pulled away from her. "Dang woman, if you suck on me like that any longer, I won't be able to satisfy you, too." "I don't mind, Paul, really I don't. You've already give me a beautiful orgasm. I want you to cum in my mouth," she said wrapping her hand around his cock again, while fondling the head of his penis with her fingers and before taking him in her mouth again. "No," he said, taking a step back. "I want to make love to you, Audrey," he whispered, while lowering himself down to her and pushing her back in the soft hay. "It's been a long while, since I've been intimate with a woman," he said taking a condom from his pocket and protecting her from him. "I can't believe how wet I am for you, Paul," she said reaching down to position and guide his cock inside of her, when he mounted her. That was the beginning of Paul's sexual relationship with this big city, bank employee and Audrey's first time making love to a country farmer. * * * * * "La, di, dum, dum, doe, doe, doe. La, di, dum, dum, doe, doe, dee. Fa, so, la, la, la, la, la. De, de, de." "Did you hear that? That was so beautiful," said Henry, the junior traveling salesman to his senior partner, John. "As if it was coming from Heaven above, I just heard an Angel singing in the far distance." "That's no Angel," chuckled John. "That's Audrey. She's Paul's wife, the farmer up the road." "Wow! She has a beautiful voice. I never heard anyone sing like that, not even Carrie Underwood sings like that. She should be making records instead of--" "Listen," said John stopping the car by the side of the road and putting the gear in park, before grabbing Henry by the arm. "What? What did I say?" "You can't continue down this dead end road in the way that you do by meddling in other people's business. This isn't the big city. Shooting your mouth off about someone else's woman is not only bad for our business but also may get you killed. Audrey's another man's woman, Paul's wife, and unless you want a butt full of buckshot, best you mind your own damn business and not comment on her singing or anything else about her. Best you keep your mouth shut, your eyes focused on farmer Paul, and your mind on the business of selling farm tools, and not on his wife or his wife's singing voice." "Why?" Filled with an I know more than you attitude, Henry made a sour face that made John roll his eyes. "Why?" John looked at his student with exasperation. "Son, I can teach you how to sell farm tools, but I can't teach you what your Daddy should have, but didn't. Now if you don't have sense enough to stay away from another man's woman, then your time on this Earth will be short. Only, if you have eyes for another man's wife, then it's best we part our ways now. I'll drive you back to town, so that you can take the bus home." John shot Henry a look that spanned two generations of experiences he had with belligerent and untrusting farmers chasing him off their property for misspoken words and/or furtive glances at their womenfolk. As it was, after all the stories about farmers' daughters, farmers don't take too kindly to traveling salesman and, other than being courteously polite, John learned long ago to keep his eyes to himself and his mind on selling farm tools. "Okay, okay, just tell me why must I treat these shit kicking farmers with kid gloves? I don't see how complimenting a woman's singing voice is being disrespectful" "You don't, huh?" John looked at his partner and slowly shook his head. "Just you being a stranger is enough to rile some of these farmers not to trust you enough to buy anything from you. In the case of farmer Paul, suffice to say that Audrey's singing is a festering sore that he hopes will scab over one day and heal their broken marriage. If it was up to him, she'd stop singing and get the crazy ideas she has about leaving him for a Hollywood singing career. Now, for you to add fuel to their fire with a comment and a compliment, well..." "Okay, okay. I get it. I was only going to tell her that she has a beautiful voice, but if you'd rather I not then--" "Other than hello, goodbye, and thank you very much, with farm tool details and prices in between, I'd rather you not say anything to farmer Paul, and especially not to his wife. It takes a long time for the folks around here to warm up to and trust a stranger and even longer, when some young man compliments their woman. Unaccustomed to receiving very many compliments, even their men folk don't compliment their womenfolk, other than to compliment them on their cooking or the quilt they made for the sofa. An unspoken bond, what's between a man and a woman out here is behind closed doors. "I wouldn't have meant anything by my compliment," said Henry. "A seemingly innocent compliment to you is a serious insult to them. You can't be meddling in people's business in these parts of the county. Just another unsolved crime statistic, with all this farmland with nothing in between but fields and ponds, with no neighbor and no sheriff for miles, years from now, some hunter's dog will find your decomposed remains buried in a shallow grave." "Okay, okay," said Henry. "I get it. I do. I get it. I understand. I promise that I won't say nothing to no one." "Do you really promise? I don't think you do get it, Henry," said John shooting him another cross look. "Why? Is there something else I should know?" "Yeah, actually, there is and I'm glad we're having this conversation now," said John trying to put things in a perspective that his junior partner would understand. "Did you ever read the book, The Postman Always Rings Twice?" "No. I didn't know there was a book, but I saw the movie?" "Which one? The one with John Garfield and Lana Turner or the remake with Jack Nicholson and Jessica Lange." "The one with Jack Nicholson. I didn't know there was a first one. Wow, that scene where Jack knocks the bowl of flour to the floor and has sex on the kitchen table with Jessica--" "Don't be thinking about having sex with another man's woman because The Postman Always Rings Twice, undoubtedly, is their unfinished story and it's a story that you don't want to be playing a starring role. Audrey is a good looking woman, the most beautiful woman in the county, maybe even in the whole state. Truthfully, she's the most beautiful woman I've ever seen and I've seen some real beauties in my sixty-five years on the planet. A city girl that's, no doubt, feeling stuck in her marriage and stranded here, she'll be looking for a way off her farm and out of Paul's life. Best you not be the cornerstone in their little love triangle and show her the road to leave or you'll find yourself dead." "Good looking?" John looked at Henry with renewed interest. "How good looking?" "Is that the only thing you heard me say, is that she's good looking? Don't be going there, Henry. I have a mind to leave you here in the road and pick you up on my way back. Matter of fact, now that I think about it, when we drive up on the house, best you stay in the car," said John. Twinkle, Twinkle My Wishing Star "You don't have to worry about me, John. I'll behave," said Henry. "I'll keep my mouth shut and my eyes to myself. Trust me." John drove up to Paul's farm and continued up the dirt road to the farmhouse. Paul was standing on the porch watching their approach with his thumbs tucked in his overalls. Scaring off crows before they drove up, Paul's scattergun rested by his chair. Just as they pulled up, Audrey came out of the house carrying a basketful of clean, wet laundry to hang out on the clothesline. With her arms full, unable to prevent her sudden exposure of skin, the wind played peek-a-boo with the hem of her half unbuttoned housecoat to expose her long, shapely legs, her firm white thighs, and her white cotton panty clad crotch. As if a laser beam targeting, before shooting an eager beaver that had been blocking the flow of his water with sudden dams, Paul watched Henry staring at all that his wife was so innocently and inadvertently showing. "Avert your eyes, Henry. Avert your eyes, God damn you, son," said John. "Don't let Paul see you staring at Audrey's panty clad pussy, you damn fool." "Wow, you weren't kidding, John. She really is beautiful. If she looks this good now in a housecoat, I can only imagine what she'd look like with her hair, makeup, and--" "Hush up, you damn fool. Paul is watching you," said John waving a hello to Paul from a distance. "Hi ya, Paul. How are you? I have some new--" "Don't even bother getting out of the car, John. I have all that I need. I'll get whatever I don't have, when I go to town later this week." "This is Henry, Paul, my boss's nephew," said John stopping the car in front of Paul and talking to him out his open window. "He'll be taking over my route, when I retire next month." "Good health to you and good luck with your retirement, John," said Paul walking to the car and shaking his hand through the open window with John, while ignoring Henry. "I won't be needing any more farm tools," said Paul. "Listen, Paul, Henry meant no offense by looking at your woman. He's just a dumb kid," whispered John getting out of the car and putting a hand on Paul's shoulder, while walking him over in direction of the barn. "It's not that, John. I decided to sell the farm." * * * * * With the day of love quickly approaching, Audrey dreaded Valentine's Day. Sad, weary, and depressed, she hadn't even yet bought her husband a Valentine's Day card. Just as she had grown to finally fall out of love with her husband, it was obvious to her now that he didn't love her. The sad reality about their strained relationship, especially in the way that he now ignored her, was that he never loved her. Always at odds with one another, with him being from the country and her having grown up in the city, they were as different had they been born in two foreign countries and spoke two different languages. More concerned about his farm animals than about her, no doubt, wanting a farmhand with benefits, he lusted over her but he didn't love her. Tired of the pretense, after putting out a big Thanksgiving Day feed for his family and friends, she suffered through another lousy Christmas. She feigned surprise, when she opened his uninspired gifts that he bought for the house, his house, a coffeemaker, a toaster, and an iron, instead of something personal, pretty, and/or sexy for her. Determined to leave, she didn't want to celebrate another insensitively hurtful holiday with him. With her bags already packed, she thought she'd be out of his life long before last year's thaw. Only, when his hired hand suddenly quit, she stayed to help him with the farm and now here it is nearly spring again and nearly another year has passed. She didn't want her life to copy his deceased wife's empty life. Tied down to the farm with milking cows, feeding chickens, and slopping pigs, her only downtime was canning preserves and making quilts to sell to the tourists at the Christmas fair. Knowing no other life, having no dreams or desires of her own, when she discovered that she was unable to have children, Paul's wife died an old, broken woman at only 30-years-old, when she fell from the hayloft and broke her neck. Not ever daring to say a word to Paul, she wondered if his wife committed suicide. Audrey's been threatening to leave him from the beginning, since he didn't come home from drinking at the bar and after she found out that he cheated on her with Becky, that tramp in town. Willing to give him whatever he wants and needs in bed, too tired from all that he has to do to work the farm, he seldom lays with her anymore. It seems that he'd rather be out in the barn checking on the animals than in bed and making love to her. Sometimes, when one of the animals falls sick, keeping them company, as if he's their surrogate mother, he sleeps out in the barn with them. She's been planning on leaving him, since she realized this wasn't the life she wanted to have, a relationship with a man who doesn't love her. She'd stay for love, but not for indifference and she believed, other than the help she gave him with the farm, that he didn't care if she stayed or left. Besides, born and raised in the city, living life on the farm, as if living life on another planet, she never considered herself a country girl. She just fell for a man, who was a country boy and a farmer. Always with footlights in her eyes, she wanted to be famous. With the sound of music in her heart, she wanted to be a singer. Always moving to the beat of any song, she wanted to be a dancer. Creative in thought, so different from all of her boring business type friends, she wanted to be an actress. Now, stuck living here on a farm, instead of milking cows and feeding chickens, she wanted to be a star. Forsaking stage lights for star lights, forsaking her hopes of a career in entertainment for a lifetime of love, just as her destiny turned one way, her life twisted in another direction. "Twinkle, twinkle little star," she said making her secret wishes again on a star she picked out and that magically appeared each night in the same place in the sky through the barn's tattered roof, whenever she was out in the barn. "I wish upon a star tonight, grant me my wish to improve my plight." Only, her wish for fame and fortune never came. Definitely, without a doubt, if by the beautiful scenery and the plentiful wildlife, this was God's country. Unfortunately, God was busy doing other things than to help her get her start with a singing, dancing, and acting career. With no clubs to hop, people to meet, and things to do, she was bored. So pitch black and silent at night, except for the singing crickets, croaking frogs, and hooting owls, unless the carnival, the farm show, or the circus came to town to light up the night's sky with an aurora borealis of wonderment, there were no Broadway lights and no music out here, just chores. From sunup to sundown, chores, chores, and more chores was her day. Milking cows, feeding chickens, sloping pigs, and baling hay, and now with the planting season looming, she'd imagined she'd be stuck here for at least another year or longer, while reaping the crops, unless and until he hired a new farmhand. Feeling so sad and so lonely, with not even a girlfriend close enough by to visit, she stopped singing. Depressed, she stopped dancing. Having not even been to a movie in years, swearing off even watching the upcoming Oscars, she realized now that she'll never be an actress. Confronting her reality, she stopped pretending she was ever going to be a singer, a dancer, or a star in a movie or an actress in a Broadway play. Then, a few weeks before Valentine's Day, her husband surprised her with a bus ticket to the capitol to try out for American Idol. She couldn't believe that he believed in her enough to do that for her. Realizing her destiny or not, either way finally able to confront a chance to experience her dream, she couldn't believe that he realized she needed to make an effort in pursuing her vision. She couldn't believe that she thought he didn't love her. For him to do this for her, enough of a change for him to change his life by giving her a chance to have her life, no doubt, he loved her enough to make her dream come true. "Oh, my God! American Idol? Are you serious?" "I want you to follow your dream," he said, as if apologizing to her, before showing his happiness for her. "Thank you, thank you, thank you," she said throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him. "I'm selling the farm," he said. "I bought another bus ticket for me and I'm willing to go with you, that is, if you'll still have me. Now that you've followed my dirt road to nowhere, I'd like to follow your star filled road to Hollywood, for a while, to see where they may take us." "Yes, Paul, I'll have you. I love you." "I love you, too, Audrey. Happy Valentine's Day." "Happy Valentine's Day, Paul." The End Please don't forget to vote, comment, and to add me and my story to your list of favored authors and favored story. Thank you for reading, voting, and/or commenting on my story.